Celilo's Shadow Page 16

  The encounter with Danny Longstreet in the Pioneer Cemetery snapped Ellie out of her bad mood. Dessa was spooked by his sudden appearance but Ellie giggled like it was a big joke. She even flirted with him, which Ellie adamantly denied. “I was just being friendly,” she insisted. Despite his tough-guy reputation, Danny Longstreet didn’t seem all that scary. In fact, the more Dessa thought about it later, the more she believed he looked distressed and maybe even a little vulnerable. Could it be that he was afraid of them? Ellie said that was ridiculous, but agreed that he seemed to be in a trance initially. Although Dessa didn’t bring it up, there was another explanation for his dazed, glassy-eyed look: the so-called bad Indian was just a guy. He acted exactly like every other guy did in Ellie’s presence. Her ponytail had come undone and she was sweaty and bedraggled from their walk in the hot sun, but Danny took one look at her and went gaga. In any case, the banter they engaged in was flirty. Dessa didn’t know which was worse—Tony Rossi, the skirt chaser or Danny Longstreet, the wild Indian.

  Once they arrived at Celilo, Mr. Matthews parked alongside the Long House. It was a large wooden structure that was shaped like an elongated teepee with walls. It was situated so that the front door faced east and the sides faced north and south. The pleasant aroma of salmon wafting outside the building made Dessa’s stomach growl. Mr. Matthews said the village women had probably been cooking and preparing for the feast since sunrise.

  As they joined the assembled crowd outside the Long House, Mr. Matthews explained what would happen. He pointed out Chief Thompson and his wife Flora and said they would enter the Long House first. Mrs. Thompson wore a blue velvet dress trimmed with elk teeth, beads, porcupine quills and buckskin. The chief wore buckskin leggings, a heavy beaded apron around his waist, a fringed buckskin shirt and an elaborate eagle-feather headdress. His long hair was braided with strips of otter fur, which Mr. Matthews said signified his status as chief. The couple was followed by the two young men who were to be honored at the feast, also dressed in their finest. It was called a Memory Feast because the men were enlisting in the army and would need good memories of home while they were gone.

  Mr. Matthews and the girls hung back from the crowd as they streamed into the Long House behind the chief’s procession. As the last of the celebrants entered the east door, they were greeted by a tall woman dressed in an ankle-length green gown adorned with white shell beads. Dessa had read somewhere that it was customary for Indian women to wear two feathers in their headband if they were married and one feather if unmarried. Since the woman wore no feather, she was most likely a widow.

  “Welcome to our Memory Feast,” she said. “I’m Reba Longstreet.”

  If Ellie registered the significance of her last name, she didn’t respond to Dessa’s elbow nudge. Introductions were made and hands shook but Mr. Matthews and Reba had undoubtedly met before. “It’s good to see you again,” Reba said. “Your wife, she did not come with you?”

  “Ellie’s mother died many years ago.”

  Reba turned to Ellie and said, “I’m so sorry. My son Danny has been without his father and I know how difficult the loss of a parent can be.”

  Ellie glanced at Dessa before flashing a reassuring smile at Reba. “I’m doing fine. Dad takes good care of me.”

  “Speaking of care,” Mr. Matthews said. “How’s George doing?”

  “Okay,” Reba said. “As you requested, I told him not to speak to anyone about what happened. He said that wasn’t a problem since he couldn’t remember the accident at all. He doesn’t even remember how he came to be in the truck.”

  Although Ellie didn’t say anything, the questioning look she gave her father was clear: Who was George? What accident? How did you know about it?” Her father thanked Reba for her help but didn’t explain what their exchange was about.

  Reba led them into the Long House. Dessa estimated that the building was at least fifty feet long with a dirt center extending about ten to fifteen feet between the north and south sides. It quickly became evident that the center area was sacrosanct, as everyone carefully avoided walking there. At the west end of the structure were several large drums. The villagers sat on tule mats, men on the north side and women on the south side near the cooking area. Reba explained that because Mr. Matthews and the girls were guests, they would sit with her on a wooden bench.

  The feast began when one of the elders asked a blessing on the food and the young men who would be leaving soon. Everyone stood as he rang a bell to begin the prayer. They raised their arms during the blessing and when the elder had finished, they turned to the right and walked in a tight circle. Reba said that was to signify their agreement with his words. The food was served buffet style on long tables set up near the cooking area and included the salmon Dessa had smelled earlier, elk and deer meat, root soup, potatoes, fry bread, and huckleberry and cherry pies for sweets. Mr. Matthews asked for some coffee, but Reba said that the only beverage served at feasts was water, which they considered holy. The atmosphere in the Long House, while festive, did seem holy. Even the children were respectful and well behaved.

  After everyone had finished eating, several young men dressed in brightly colored costumes, feathers, and jangly bells on their wrists and ankles entered the sacred center of the gathering. Accompanied by six other young men on drums, they began a lively dance. Dessa recognized Danny right away and poked Ellie in the ribs. She shrugged as if she didn’t care, but her eyes were focused on him during the entire dance. The dance steps were intricate and the precise movements that they executed had an artistic flair. “Wow,” said Dessa. “They are really good.” Ellie didn’t comment one way or the other.

  When the dancing ended, Chief Thompson addressed the gathering. Reba directed their attention to the peace pipe that he held in his right hand and the beaded bag in his left. She said the bag contained his copy of the Middle Oregon Treaty of 1855. “The treaty was signed by the government and two Wy-am chiefs named Stoecketli and Ice. It gave our people fishing rights here for all time.” Reba glanced at Mr. Matthews before continuing. “But the federal government has broken that treaty and is building a dam to destroy our salmon.” Ellie said something to Reba, but Dessa couldn’t hear what it was. Did she feel the need to apologize for her father’s work on the dam?

  Chief Thompson’s talk, however, didn’t focus on the dam or their problems. He told stories of the battles his people had fought to help their white brothers. “Our people promised Lewis and Clark that they would always be friends to the white men.” Dessa caught some of the dancers, including Danny, shake their head and grumble softly. The chief ignored them and directed his attention to Mr. Matthews and the girls. He welcomed them to the feast and introduced them as “our friends,” too. Chief Thompson concluded his talk by telling stories that he hoped the young men honored tonight would remember as happy memories of home as they served in the army.

  The Memory Feast ended with Chief Thompson and Flora Thompson leading the crowd out of the Long House. As the dancers filed past them, Reba tapped her son on the shoulder. “Danny, wait. I want you to meet our guests.”

  He sighed as if her simple request had terribly inconvenienced him. This was not the Pioneer Cemetery Danny. This was costumed and face painted Danny with an attitude that lived up to his reputation. One of the dancers lingered nearby, but Danny told him to go on. “I’ll catch you later.”

  After introducing her son, Reba said, “This is Sam Matthews and his daughter Ellie and her good friend Dessa.” Danny acknowledged Mr. Matthews and Dessa with a cursory nod but Ellie was rewarded with a sly grin. “Ellie Matthews, huh? Nice name.”

  Ellie matched Danny’s grin and teasing tone. “Nice dancing.”

  “I’m glad you could see him perform,” Reba said. Danny has been dancing ever since he was a toddler.”

 
Danny shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. My friends started early, too.”

  “Nevertheless,” Mr. Matthews said, “the dancing was amazing.”

  Danny brushed the compliment aside. “It’s what Indians do. And without our fishing grounds, we’ll have plenty of time to dance.”

  Reba tried to deflect her son’s harsh tone. “Danny, Sam Matthews isn’t here because of the dam. He saved George’s life today.”

  “So, I heard,” replied Danny. “But who’s going to save the rest of us?”

  “You have reason to be concerned about the dam,” Mr. Matthews said. “In fact, I’d like to talk to you about that. Maybe there is some way I can help.”

  “I’ve heard that line before,” scoffed Danny. ‘The government is here to help you.’ And how do they help? By destroying our way of life and digging up our ancestors. Thanks, but no thanks.” A nearby dog barked once as if to put an exclamation point on Danny’s outburst.

  A tense silence followed. Reba looked uncomfortable but if she felt differently from her son, she didn’t say so. Ellie spoke up first. “Don’t judge my father so harshly, Danny.” “He’s a good man and I know he will do the right thing.”

  “Well said, young lady.” Sheriff Pritchard’s sudden arrival in the middle of an already strained moment became even more anxious when the sheriff waved a piece of paper in the air. “This here is a legal warrant for the arrest of George Featherstone.”

  A vein throbbed in Mr. Matthews’ temple as if it were about to burst. “Wait a minute, sheriff,” he said. “There is some question as to whether George was under the influence at the time of the accident. I need to talk to you before you arrest him for the DUI.”

  Sheriff Pritchard handed the warrant to Mr. Matthews. “Read it and you will see this has nothing to do with a DUI. Or theft of the truck, for that matter.”

  “Then why are you busting him?” demanded Danny. “You have no authority here anyway. Celilo is under the jurisdiction of our tribal police.”

  “Not in a capital murder case.”

  A collective gasp. “Murder? What?”

  “You heard me right,” replied the sheriff smugly. “George is wanted for the murder of Nick Rossi.”

  The girls looked at each other in disbelief and shock. Both started talking at once. “No! Nick Rossi? We just saw him this afternoon! It can’t be true.”

  “Sorry to say, but it’s the God’s honest truth. George Featherstone killed Nick Rossi in cold blood. And, as I recall, Mr. Matthews here took personal responsibility for the man. It’s time to turn him over.”

  “Hold on, sheriff,” Sam said, handing the warrant back. “When and how did all this supposedly take place?”

  Pritchard shook his head. “I’m not under any obligation to tell you.”

  Danny’s dark eyes narrowed and his painted face exploded in a storm of furious colors. Danny couldn’t have signaled his feelings about the sheriff’s claims more plainly. Anticipating her son’s next move, Reba frantically grabbed his arm. “No, Danny,” she pleaded. Don’t do it!” He easily shook free of her grasp and lurched toward the sheriff with clenched and raised fists.

  Pritchard placed a hand on the holster at his hip and glared at Danny, as if daring him to proceed.

  Mr. Matthews quickly intervened by stepping between the two men. “Let’s not make the situation any more difficult. Danny, you need to back away. I understand your outrage, but it’s best if I deal with the sheriff.” Proudly defiant, Danny stood his ground until Reba urged him to do what Mr. Matthews said. With a final menacing glance at the sheriff, he turned around and walked back to where his mother stood. “Now,” Mr. Matthews told Pritchard, “If you want my cooperation, you better explain what this warrant is all about.”

  “Are you sure you want the ladies to hear the gruesome details?”

  Despite her summer tan, Ellie’s face had turned a sickly ashen color. Dessa was sure her face looked much the same. Mr. Matthews regarded them both and then asked Reba, “Could you take care of the girls? I think they both need some water.”

  “No, Dad,” Ellie protested. “I’m fine.”

  Dessa seconded the notion. “Please, Mr. Matthews. Let us stay.” As much as the news about Nick had upset her, she didn’t want to miss the story behind the arrest of his killer. Her article for the newsletter had just taken a shocking turn.

  “Come with me,” Reba said, taking both girls firmly by the hand. “Let’s go inside the Long House for some water as Mr. Matthews suggested.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Okay, sheriff,” Matthews said after ensuring the girls were safely out of earshot. “Let’s hear it.”

  Danny didn’t know the dead guy—Nick Ross or whatever they called him—but he was certain that George had nothing to do with his death. If Danny’s numerous run-ins with Pritchard had taught him anything it was that the sheriff was determined to destroy Celilo Village, one Indian at a time. He’d made no bones about his dislike of “their kind” even before Raymond Sun Dancer ran off with his wife. Since then, the man’s mission in life had been to pin whatever misdeed he could on someone at Celilo, which was usually Danny or one of his friends. That Pritchard hadn’t accused Danny of the murder was something of a miracle, given his track record.

  His first impulse was to attack the sheriff and would’ve flattened him, gun or no gun, if Matthews hadn’t intervened. Danny didn’t trust Sam Matthews any more than he trusted the sheriff, but the way he’d confronted Pritchard was interesting. When Matthews demanded an explanation, Danny decided to let things play out a little. He knew whatever the sheriff had to say would be a web of lies, but he was curious as to how his mother’s so-called friend would react to the sheriff’s B.S.

  Pritchard lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. “Seems as though old George had had a little too much to drink today,” he said, exhaling a cloud of fetid smoke. “He was woozy and stumbling when Tony Rossi spotted him in the middle of a downtown street. Tony had rescued George on other occasions when he’d had too much to drink. This time he asked his cousin, Nick, to give the old guy a lift back to the village. Two witnesses saw them drive-off together in Tony’s truck.”

  Lie number one, thought Danny. The government man must have thought so, too. “Sheriff,” Matthews said, “I saw George Featherstone acting the same way once. Like you, I thought he’d probably had too much to drink but I’ve since learned that he’s a diabetic and doesn’t drink. If he was acting drunk in town, it was because he was disoriented from low blood sugar, not alcohol. He needed insulin.”

  “If you say so. But he stunk like a brewery and the empty wine bottle we found at the wreck explained why. The point is, George was so out of it he could barely walk and Nick Rossi was kind enough to take him home. His mistake was stopping at Baker Bluff first.”

  “Why would he do that?” asked Matthews. “Baker Bluff isn’t on the way to the village.”

  Pritchard glared at him. “Are you going to let me tell what happened or keep on interrupting me with a million questions?”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Tony had asked Nick to inspect the property for him. It was for sale and since Nick was assisting him in the real estate business, he wanted the kid to be familiar with what was on the market.” Pritchard paused to crush out his cigarette with his boot heel. “Tony is damned upset about losing his cousin, I might add.”

  “I’m sure he is,” said Matthews. “I’ve met Nick and he seemed like a nice young man.”

  “You got that right,” agreed Pritchard. He glanced at Danny and smirked, “Not like some of the punks I deal with on a regular basis.”

  Matthews caught the look on Danny’s face and quickly said,
“That kind of talk isn’t necessary, sheriff. Finish your story.”

  Story is right. Danny didn’t believe one word of the tale Pritchard was spinning.

  “Okay, where was I?”

  “Nick stopped at Baker Bluff.”

  “Yeah, right,” Pritchard said. “That turned out to be a fatal mistake. For some reason, George got it into his head that he wanted to steal the truck. They fought about it and George shot Nick.”

  Danny couldn’t listen to the sheriff’s lies any longer. His story about George was so far-fetched that only a fool would believe it. “Steal the truck!” he blurted. “That’s just plain crazy. Everyone knows George never learned to drive. And just how was he supposed to shoot this guy? George didn’t even carry a fishing knife, let alone a gun.”

  “And what about the body?” chimed Matthews. “You and I were both at the wreck. There wasn’t any sign of Nick or a weapon.”

  The sheriff raised both hands in the air. “Hold on, will ya? I’m trying to tell you the facts.” He ignored Danny’s argument and addressed Matthews. “The tow truck driver I took up there to haul back Rossi’s truck, Clyde Williams? He was the one who found Nick’s body. After George shot the kid, he must’ve dragged him to the cliff and tossed him over. Only he didn’t fall all the way down to the rocks below like George intended. After I’d helped Clyde hitch up the truck to his rig, he took a smoke break at the edge of the cliff and that’s when he saw the body. We found the pistol in the brush about halfway down the bank.”